The Ferryman
written by: David L Painter
The silent ribbons of dead men’s songs curl upward
like green vapor from a nameless lake.
for the dead have no voice.
Neither tree
nor branch leaves a trace on this barren place.
A copper-colored sun glows overhead.
Permeating odors of nothingness fill my nostrils.
The only sound, is the ferryman’s pole
and it is just a ripple,
no more than the sound of a departing soul.
This is the way we go about dying
waiting for the ferryman to tend to our souls.
His strong hands demand a token
and obolus to mark our passing.
David is an International published poet. He is a member of the Inner city writers group and Penned in the city. His works have been published in Sweetycat Press, Piker press, Rye Whiskey Review, Clarendon House, Spillwords Press, The Writers Club, and Dyst Literary Journal, as well as The World of Myth, Every Writer, Ohio Bards, Academy of the Heart, and West Virginia Writers Group.
Latest posts by David L Painter (see all)
- Banshee: A Halloween Night’s Tale - October 31, 2025
- Wardle Stuebner’s Tale of a Cattle Drive - March 20, 2025
- Think Me Not A Fool - January 25, 2025
